Guilty
by the.uk.of.arthur.kirkland
Summary: The nations are aware that England has many secrets and lies- but what secret could have possibly lead to such strange things? They're determined to figure out why England is being watched, but will they be able to handle what they figure out?
1. Chapter 1

The chilled wind bit the Englishman's nose, drying his already chapped lips. His green gaze wandered over the busy street, his hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his trenchcoat. He took a deep breath of air, closing his eyes a moment.

He tried to relax. He couldn't. How could anyone relax like this? The Brit gave a frustrated sigh, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Oh Angleterre~"

Fuck.

Arthur stopped where he was, slowly opening his eyes to see the annoying Frenchman practically bouncing toward him- he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Hello, frog. What do you want?" England greeted in monotone, gaze drifting across the street and locking on a black car. He gave a 'tsk' of annoyance before returning his gaze to France, who now stood directly in front of him.

"Arthur, you wound me. Can I not just come and visit my old friend?" Francis replied overdramatically, putting a hand over his heart and looking offended. This time Arthur really did roll his eyes.

"Haven't you lot ever heard of calling? You're just as bad as the American.." Arthur shook his head, sighing heavily. Why did everything have to be so… Annoying, for lack of a better word.

Francis gasped.

"Angleterre! That is an unjust accusation! How could you- and I thought we were just beginning to get along." He pout, faking tears in his eyes.

"Bugger off, frog. I'm busy."

"Busy? With what?"

"With walking. Why is it any of your business!?" Arthur huffed, pushing past the Frenchman to continue walking. Francis put his arm over his shoulders and followed, causing Arthur to scowl at him.

"Arthur, brighten up! It is a beautiful day, non? Even for your country."

Arthur jabbed him in the side.

"Ow! Now that was unnecessary." Francis pout again, and again Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Now seriously, frog. What is it that you want?"

"Well.. You didn't come to the meeting yesterday, and you haven't been answering your phone."

Arthur stopped in his tracks.

"That was yesterday!?" He huffed in annoyance, sending a piercing glare at the black car which hadn't moved as of yet.

"Oui, it was. We were worried about you!" Francis followed the Brits gaze, brow furrowing in confusion. Arthur huffed, beginning to walk again.

"Sorry. I'll make sure I go next time."

"Angleterre, why were you glaring at that car?"

"It doesn't matter. When's the next meeting?"

Francis cast the Brit a suspicious look, but decided to drop it- for now.

"Two weeks from now."

Arthur gave a small nod, staring straight ahead with a slight scowl to his features. Francis frowned.

' _Angleterre is acting a bit strange.. I wonder if anything happened..'_

"Why were you not answering your phone, mon lapin?" Francis asked, smiling lightly again.

"I was.." Arthur trailed slightly, as though trying to figure out a proper response, "Busy."

"You seem to be very 'busy' lately, Angleterre."

Sapphire met emerald in a tense moment, both men attempting to decode the others thoughts.

"Yes, well, sometimes people get busy." Arthur looked away, picking up the pace and leaving the Frenchman to follow, watching with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

A few moments later, they arrived at the Brits house- or mansion, rather. How could one man live in such a big building? Then again, many nations lived in large places such as this, and it wasn't a surprise that Arthur would be one of them.

Francis knew the house very well- after all, he had known the Englishman for many a year, and there were few rooms that he hadn't been allowed in. Besides that, Arthur hardly ever changed anything in the house.

Which is why Francis was a bit taken aback when he saw a mechanical lock on the door. Well, it didn't look like much of a lock. There was no key-hole, or button, or number-pad: just a metal box with a red bar of light at the top.

France looked at England in confusion, but the Brit offered no answers, stopping at the door and waiting a second until a click was heard and the light turned green. The door opened with ease.

The next thing that surprised France was how still the air seemed, and how _clean_ everything was. Not one thing was out of place or unorganized. It was almost as though no one lived there at all. No clutter on the tables, couch pillows piled onto a chair. There was no dishes left from afternoon tea, no discarded newspaper.

France frowned in concern, but Arthur tried to act natural, suddenly feeling a weight on his shoulders as his eyes moved to every corner, suppressing a shudder.

Francis the unsettling feeling that usually accompanied being watched.

"Angleterre-"

"How about you go sit down. I'll make some tea." The Brit interrupted, and he didn't wait for a response before quickly rushing to the kitchen, not even taking off his coat.

Something was definitely wrong.

Francis removed his coat, hanging it before moving into the living room. His sapphire gaze searched the room for any irregularities in the order- he froze.

Was that a.. _camera_?

Under the mantle of the fireplace, he could just spot a small, hidden camera. He approached it, frowning into it before beginning to search the room.

He found several hidden cameras- in the corners, under the coffee table, on the windowsill.

Another layer added to the mystery when he looked out the window, spotting the same car as before parked across the street.

With another uncomfortable look around the room, Francis sat on the couch.

Why on Earth did Arthur have his house so.. secure? If, indeed, that was the case. France noted that the Brit didn't seem to happy about the people in the car, and the look in his eyes when they entered the house..

Perhaps Arthur was just being watched? Monitored? That would explain the phones..

Francis leaned back, simply getting more confused, but his thoughts were interrupted as Arthur came back into the room and handed him a cup of tea before taking a seat in a chair, back facing the window.

France studied the Brit carefully. He certainly _looked_ relaxed, but Francis had known him for years. He could see his the discomfort and nervousness from how tensely the other nation moved the cup to his lips, not looking at France all the while.

The Frenchman opened his mouth to ask, but quickly closed it again. If they were being watched, who was to say that their conversations weren't being heard? He sipped his own tea. It seemed he would be getting no answers today.

"You should've heard the ridiculous things America was saying yesterday."


	2. Chapter 2

"Surely we can allow him to go to meetings. The nations will get suspicious if he doesn't show up often enough."

" **It's dangerous. You know what he did. If we let him go to the meeting, we can't keep as good an eye on him."**

" _France is already suspicious. No doubt he will tell the other nations what he's figured out so far. If we give him contact to them, they may not give him any choice but to say something."_

"So? It's his own mistake. If they find out-"

" _They could try to punish him themselves, or it could damage relations with the other nations."_

"And keeping him from contacting them at all won't?"

" **It won't do as much damage. I told you we should've just put him away and made up something. Isn't that what we do?"**

"Maybe you're right. But it's too late now. Do we let him go to the meeting, or do we keep him in his home?"

" _Either way, we're taking risks. Who's to say they don't just show up on his doorstep if he doesn't go to the meeting?"_

"He has a very strong will when he needs it, and I know he doesn't want anyone finding out. If we convince him that it's absolutely imperative to keep it a secret.."

" _How are we supposed to convince him? He's stubborn as a mule."_

" **I'll take care of that."**

"Then it's settled. Thank God. Who's up for brunch?"


	3. Chapter 3

Hotels. Arthur would never get used to them. They had an odd feeling about them that was unsettling. Maybe he was just paranoid.

All the same, he felt remarkably more relaxed when he flopped onto the bed in the hotel than he had for a few weeks back home- even with his ankle chafing.

The World Meeting was to be held in America, and in all honesty, England would rather have been stuck in France. Maybe he was just bitter.

He was most definitely just bitter, but he'd be damned if he admitted that to himself, or anyone else. He supposed there was a lot of things he wouldn't admit. Which brought his attention back to his ankle.

The Brit sat up, huffing and pulling up his pant leg to reveal the device around his ankle. He scowled at it.

"You could've made it more comfortable you know." He growled, pulling the small microphone off of his shirt collar.

"You lot are bastards, and I hope you remember that."

He could practically hear them glaring. Arthur gave an annoyed huff before attaching the microphone back to his shirt, making sure it was hidden before falling back and laying down, staring at the ceiling.

He jumped at a loud banging on his door.

"YOOOO IGGY!"

Oh for fucks sakes…

The Brit pulled himself to his feet, stalking over to the door and whipping it open.

"Yell any louder the entire bloody country will hear you!" He scowled at the American, who just grinned back.

"You really think so? Man, that would be so cool! I wouldn't even have to call-"

"Yes yes, we get it. What do you want?"

America gave a small pout at being interrupted, but went back to grinning and pushed his way into the room.

"I just wanted to see you man! You went and disappeared for a while there!" Alfred flopped down on the bed, much to Arthur's annoyance.

"I was just busy. I don't see how it's any of your business." Arthur shot him a glare, sitting in the chair in the room and crossing his legs at the knee. His pant leg rode up enough to reveal the device, but he only noticed when America spotted it.

"Dude, what's that!? It looks like one of those crazy tracker things from TV!"

Arthur scowled, pulling his pant leg over it and quickly thinking of some sort of excuse.

"Yes, it tracks how many steps you take." The Brit crossed his arms over his chest and watched the American narrow his gaze in suspicion. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Francis told us about all that crap at your house. What's up with that?"

"Just some extra security measures. I had a few break-ins a few weeks ago."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing him.

"Dude. That's ridiculous. He said you had people _following you_ , and that you didn't seem to have a key to your house or anything!"

Arthur hesitated. ".. Facial recognition."

"Hah! You hesitated!" The American jumped to his feet, pointing a finger at the Brit.

"What are you hiding! Come on man, spill!"

England scowled for a few moments before adjusting his shirt to show the microphone. America froze, eyes growing wide and arm slowly lowering. Arthur adjusted his shirt again, shaking his head with a small sigh. Neither nation said anything for a few minutes.

"Well, uhm… 'Suppose I should let you get some rest. I'm sure you're tired from the whole, plane trip thing…" Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, looking away with a frown, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, that would be best. Thank you for stopping by."

And with that, America got up and left the room- only to send out a text to the nations about his new discovery: excluding England himself, of course.

England sighed heavily, standing and moving back onto the bed. This was going to be difficult.


	4. Chapter 4

Why did they all have to mutter like that? What did it matter what his life was like!? Arthur hated the glances, the curious looks. The gazes that swept over him.

He was watched enough at home. Why did it have to be the same here?

Arthur sat in his usual seat, fingers tapping impatiently on the table. Would they just start the bloody meeting already? They didn't have all-

The Brit froze.

"Privyet, comrade!" He heard the childish lilt of Russia's voice behind him and managed to suppress a shudder. Why was he so scared of this nation!? He used to be a great empire! Oh, but enough of that.

Arthur turned in his seat a bit to look up at the towering Russian.

"Hello Russia. Did you need something?" He asked in monotone.

"Da!" Russia sat down, still smiling brightly. Arthur raised a thick eyebrow.

"What is it then?"

Russia leaned forward, his lips just brushing the startled Englishman's ear.

"Why are you being listened to? Have you been ordered to spy on us, comrade?" His voice was so quiet, Arthur doubted the microphone could pick it up.

"I'm not spying on anyone. It's for security purposes. Now, if you will please sit in your own seat so we can start the meeting, that would be preferred." Of course, he never said whose security.

Russia leaned back, regarding him with a small smile, though it was obvious he wasn't pleased with the answer.

"Da. Lets get this meeting over with." He stood and walks back over to his seat. Arthur gave a relieved sigh. He hadn't noticed that his hands had been trembling.

The meeting started, with Germany issuing the orders, as usual. He seemed the only orderly one. Glances were still cast England's way, curious and… Afraid? By God, some of these people actually looked a bit _afraid_. They didn't even know what he had done yet!

Like all meetings, this one quickly fell into disarray. America suggested something stupid, and England quickly told him off for it, only to have France disagree with both of them- but you'd either have to be a fool or just not paying attention to not notice that England seemed a bit more aggressive than usual.

He looked like he was about to seriously hurt someone.

When the meeting ended, nations stayed behind to chat. If Arthur paid attention while he got his papers together, he could listen in on a few conversations.

"I am a bit worried, mi amigo… It's been a very long time since I saw that look on his face." Arthur recognized Spain's voice.

"Look? What look? He just seemed really pissed. Like, _really_ pissed." America.

"Oui, but Antonio is right. There was definitely a look…"

"What look!? Come on guys, you gotta tell me now!"

Arthur glanced over slightly, watching France and Spain share a look of worry.

"Well.. You see Amerique…"

"You've heard that Arthur was a pirate, si?"

"Well yeah. He used to tell these badass stories!"

Another look shared by Francis and Antonio. The bastards..

"Well.. Angleterre had, uhm…"

"Today he had the look he used to get when he was murdering innocent people-"

"Antonio!"

"What, it's the truth."

Arthur couldn't see America's stunned expression- but he decided that he didn't want to hear it.

Quickly, he gathered his binder, rushing out the door and past the talkative nations whose conversations grew quieter as he passed. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, eyes narrowed in determination to not show any emotion besides anger.

So what if he killed people!? All of the nations did! So why.. Why did it matter so much..?

Arthur grit his teeth, getting a taxi and sitting down with a huff of anger.

It may matter to his government (and seemingly everyone else) but it didn't matter to him.

At least, that's what he told himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Black. It was all he could see. Staring into an empty abyss with the feeling of raindrops on his skin.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but the noise that ripped through the silence wasn't his voice. It was a scream.

A flash of light like lightning lit up his surrounding. Suddenly he could feel the cold ground beneath his feet, the cool air on his skin. A woman held firmly in his hand, his fingers leaving bruises on her jaw and face. His long knife pressed just under her ear and he began to cut.

Again, the world went back, sensation melting back into raindrops.

"NO, NO!" The screaming echoed in the halls of the hotel, the Brit thrashing in his sheets, sobbing. The nations had gathered outside the locked door.

"Move. Let me do it." Germany pushed his way through the small crowd, motioning for them to back away from the door. He laid a hard kick on the door and it flew open with a loud bang, the nations who had come to investigate bursting into the room.

"Angleterre!" France was the first to race to the bed, reaching out only to be smacked away, almost getting kicked by the thrashing Brit.

Germany moved forward, Italy and Romano peeking in at the door, trembling slightly, Italy with tears in his eyes.

"Russia. Help me hold him down. France, try to calm him." Germany issued order. Russia strode over, smiling, and grabbed England's ankles while Germany grabbed his shoulders.

Surprisingly, there was a bit of a struggle to keep the screaming Englishman still. He scratched at Germany's arms, kicking out and managing to connect with Russia's jaw- but they managed to hold him still long enough for France to climb onto the bed, putting Arthur's head in his lap.

"Come on Angleterre, you're alright. We aren't here to hurt you."

"Let me go.. Please.. I didn't mean to do it.. I'm sorry.. Let me go.."

"What did you do, Arthur?"

The Brit shook his head in response, falling only into whimpers as he slept. Francis sighed, lightly petting his head, though he flushed with embarrassment when he remembered the others in the room. They didn't seem to care.

"So.. He really did do something then?" Spain crept over, and they watched the Englishman flinched at his voice, the tears escaping his eyes again as he whispered an 'I'm sorry...'

"Oui.. It seems so." Francis frowned down at the Brit.

"Hey, this is strange, aru." China pushed over to the bedside table, picking up an orange cannister of pills.

"What is that..?" Germany frowned, brow furrowing.

"I don't know. It doesn't have a label, aru."

The nations glanced at eachother, Germany and Russia slowly letting go of the now calm Englishman.

"Perhaps these pills are causing whatever just happened, da?"

"Ja, but what could they be for..?"

"Mon Dieu... Maybe that's why he was so aggressive at the meeting."

"I agree, but perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere. He will be pretty pissed if he wakes up and we're here, aru."

"Si! Come, we can go to my room and order room service!" Spain chimed, and they all quietly agreed, filing out of the room and muttering to each other.

"Germany, what's happening?" Italy asked, his voice shaking with fear.

"I don't know, Italy. But we'll figure it out."

"You better figure it out potato bastard..." Romano interjected. Their voices faded as the door closed.

"Mon Dieu... You really have gotten yourself in trouble this time.." Francis sighed, not moving from his place on the bed. He watched the Englishman's face twist with pain and fear, wondering what was happening in his head.

With a small sigh, the Frenchman slipped off of the bed, kissing the Brits forehead and taking a step back.

"Bonne nuit, petit lapin." Francis grabbed the bottle of pills, shoving them in his coat pocket before walking out of the room, leaving the Brit alone.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Those pills aren't working properly. They aren't supposed to make him more aggressive."_

"Well, it was experimental. We'll have to change the formula before something happens."

 **"That could've ended badly. We have to be more careful with these pills. We all know what he can do."**

 _"Yes. How is the assurance of our nation's silence?"_

 **"Heh. Good as he can be."**

"They are going to be so unhappy when they realize he's gone."

 _"Yes, but we can convince them of its necessity. What matters is that it will most likely go unnoticed by the nations."_

 **"Now that's a group of people we don't want to piss off."**

"Yeah. Now that would be a bloody mess.."

 _"Have your people start work on a new pill."_

"Yes ma'am."

 _"And you."_

 **"What?"**

 _"Try not to break him too much."_

 **"Heh. No promises."**


	7. Chapter 7

"We have to figure out what to do!" America paced the floor of Spain's hotel room, having rushed over as soon as he was informed.

"Oui. As much as I hate to admit it, we have to do something." Francis nodded, having come in a few minutes before America.

The other nations had stationed themselves around the room. There was a blanket of nervous energy on the room- even Russia didn't seem to be smiling quite so much.

"Well. It is obvious that England must have done something wrong." Germany pointed out, sitting on a chair with Italy sitting in front of him.

"Ve..~ It must've been something really bad..." The Italian commented, frowning slightly.

"I always knew he was no good, aru." China crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall.

"Dude, how bad could this have been? I mean, this is Iggy we're talking about!"

There was silence at that comment, all of the nations looking away from the American.

"What? Why are you all doing that?" The American frowned.

"Angleterre has a long history of violence. It would be incredible to find a nation he hasn't wronged." Francis sighed. Suddenly the American stood straighter, eyes filled with an uncommon form if anger for him

"So!? We've all done bad things! Seriously, I don't think any of us get to judge him."

"It's.. Different. With him." Spain stared at the wall, the haunted look he wore on his face not suiting him at all.

France walked to Spain, putting an arm comfortingly over his shoulders.

"It is alright Antonio.. He will not be harming any of us. It has been a long time since England was like that, oui? At least, when it wasn't just for orders."

Another moment of silence as the nation's contemplated this.

"Do you think his brothers would know?" China asked.

"Iggy has brothers!?" America exclaimed. Francis chuckled.

"Oui, brothers. The rest of the United Kingdom."

America looked even more confused.

"Mein Gott, are we really going to ask them..?" Germany asked reluctantly.

"Da! I think this idea is wonderful!" Russia smiled brightly, "I will come along!"

"If that commie is coming, so am I!" America announced.

"I am coming as well, aru. It's been a long time since I saw Opium's brothers." China added.

"Ve~ Can I come to Germany?" Italy looked up at the German.

"Nein. I really think only one of us should be going. They won't appreciate us coming at them in a mob. If we want to get any information out of them, we need to send someone that they don't hate." Germany shook his head, arms crossed over his chest.

"Perhaps you are right. I believe I should go. After all, I do know Scotland quite well~ Oui?" Francis smiled.

"Come on, I want to go! If these guys are Iggy's brothers, then they're my brothers to!" America declared.

"America, didn't you say that you weren't his brother a long time ago?" Spain asked.

America paused at this statement, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, but I take it back!"

"Amerique, just let me take care of it. If you would like, I will wear a microphone for you all to listen in." France offered.

The nations were silent for a moment before giving their agreement.

"Then it is settled. I shall go and speak to the UK brothers as soon as possible."


	8. Chapter 8

The pub was dimly lit, the smell of alcohol hanging heavy in the air. Music played, just barely heard over the white noise of conversation.

Francis moved over to the bar, taking a seat and ordering. His fingers tapped nervously on the counter as he scanned the surrounding area.

Several minutes passed, the Frenchman growing more anxious by the minute. Where on Earth was- He felt a heavy hand hit his back.

"Aye, Francis! Been a while!" The flame-haired Scotsman smiled at him, taking the seat beside him and ordering whiskey.

"Oui. It has been a while, Alistair" France returned a smile, but half-heartedly. Scotland seemed to noticed, because he frowned slightly.

"What's with the glum face?" He took a long sip of his drink, fixing the Frenchman with a quizzical look. France sighed quietly.

"It is about your brother."

Alistair was quiet a moment, brows knitting together. "Which one?"

"Angleterre. Something very strange is going on with him. We were wondering whether you knew something?"

"What'd that brat do now?" Alistair frowned more.

"Well, we aren't sure. But..." Then Francis launched into an explanation of everything they had figured out about England's situation, Scotland looking less annoyed and more concerned the more the Frenchman said.

"Ya mean to tell me that my little brother's gone and done somethin' so terrible that he isn't allowed to have a moment of privacy?"

"... Oui. And he's been taking these…" Francis took out the unlabelled bottle of pills that he had stolen, putting them on the counter for Alistair to see.

Scotland picked up the bottle, examining it with narrowed eyes, his brow furrowing.

"I've got no idea what he's done, but these ain't just pills." He said after a while, putting the bottle onto the counter. "They're using' some sort of magic… Think it might be Wales' magic. Could be why he's gone and disappeared on us..

"Wales disappeared?" France's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat at what that could imply. "H-How long ago!?"

"Bit over two weeks, I think."

Francis almost sighed in relief. "That would've been after I saw Angleterre then... Perhaps it does have something to do with it though. If those pills are from his, er.. magic, then maybe…?" The Frenchman didn't finish, hoping the other understood where he was going with this.

Alistair gave a small nod, but he was staring straight ahead. For all the times he had preached about hating England, it was obvious that he was worried- for both of his brothers. France pat him lightly on the back.

"It is alright mon ami. We will figure this out." He assured.

"Aye." Scotland nodded. The two sat together, drinking in silence before slowly beginning to speak again. Their conversation grew light hearted, putting their worries aside to enjoy each others company.

The sun had set by the time Francis left the bar, walking down the street aways before going into a cafe. He quickly spotted the other nations, who were whispering amongst themselves. He walked over and took the free chair.

"I would guess you heard everything?" He said, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair.

"Yeah! So Wales was kidnapped!? What could that mean?" America chimed, looking far too excited about all of this.

"Can we safely assume that it is his government who has Opium under surveillance, aru?" China asked. There was a murmur of agreement.

"So the government took him, and is using him to make things for Arthur?" Spain looked thoughtful for once.

"Oui, it does seem that way." France sighed, closing his eyes. "I doubt his other brothers will know anything more."

There was silence as they tried to figure out what to do next. It seemed they were at a dead end.

"... Undercover!" America yelled.

"America, now is not the time to shout random words." China criticized, much to everyone's agreement. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"No! I mean we need to sneak into his house and see if we can find any clues!"

"Si! That sounds like a great idea?"

"Are you bat-shit crazy? From what you people have been talking about, that place sounds armed to the teeth." Romano huffed, crossing his arms.

"Oh come on Lovi, that's no match for us!" Antonio wrapped his arms around the eldest Italian, only to be hit away.

"For once, Romano might be right. We can't just march in there and expect there to be no resistance." Germany sighed.

"Not if we scope out the place first! It has to have some blind spot, and what if we like, dug a hole underneath into that creepy basement of his!"

There was silence, most nations completely baffled by the stupidity of the Americans proposed idea on how to get it.

"His basement… He would never let anyone in there, not even his own government…" Francis began.

"You can't possibly be taking his ideas to heart, aru!"

"But what if his idea is not as ludicrous as it sounds? I do not suggest digging a tunnel, but perhaps there is another way? All security camera's have blind spots- but if Angleterre was hiding something anywhere, it would be that basement."

"But doesn't he keep a lot of strange things down there, aru? how will we know when we've found what we're looking for?"

There was silence for a while as they thought.

"Norway?" Russia suggested.

"Si, Norway and him have that same.. intertest."

"Oui, you are right!"

"So it's a plan then! Man, this is so cool! Like a spy movie! I'll go in and figure out where the cameras are!" Alfred grinned.

"I can have my bruder talk to Denmark, who will be able to contact Norway." Ludwig nodded.

"Who will be going in when we break into his house? I believe I should go." France said.

"We can't have too many people go, or we'll get caught." Germany warned.

"Well Norway has to go, and me and Francis definitely have to go…" America began.

"That should be enough. Perhaps you all can wear cameras so we can see as well?" China suggested. There was a murmur of agreement.

"Then it's settled!" America stood up, throwing his fist in the air with enthusiasm. "Operation Unthinkable is a go!"

It was hard to tell who hit the American first.


	9. Chapter 9

It hadn't been easy to get in. Alfred had mapped out the surveillance cameras and found that there were very few blind spots. Still, they were able to figure out a plan.

They had parked a large van blocks away, where a few more of the nations were huddled around the screens that fed them the feed from the small group headed toward England's mansion, moving through the small forest out back instead of going through the front.

It was night time. With any luck, Arthur would be asleep.

They averted the camera that watched over part of the garden, disabling the motion sensors on the window and slipping in carefully.

Alfred took the lead, carefully moving to the large door that led to the basement. Norway took hold of the doorknob, whispering a spell the unlocked the door and slipping through, having to use a spell that lit the candles so they could see.

A spiral staircase led down into a high ceilinged room, the floor and walls concrete. Shelves lined the walls, interrupted by an altar at the back wall and a desk on the front wall. Many of the shelves held books, but others held jars of… stuff. Cloudy fluids with hard to see shapes floating inside, but it could be guessed that they were various once-living specimens. A row of smaller jars were filled with red 'fluid'.

Immediately, Alfred was uncomfortable. There was something too dark, too.. horror movie, about the entire place. Lukas was the only one who didn't pause as he walked into the room, gazing around.

"America, watch the door. France, go look at the altar." Norway ordered, wandering over to the desk. America quickly rushed up the stairs, and Francis, with a begrudging sigh moved into the room and walked over to the altar.

The desk was old, piled with parchment and paper of varying ages and a few old books. Lukas sifted through the papers. Plenty of it was just old paperwork that was never handed in and loose incantations, though there were a few writing pieces that weren't in English. Admittedly, he took a few, certain that Arthur wouldn't notice. Then, he moved to the draws. Expectedly, they were locked, but a quick spell fixed the problem.

Norway slid the draw open, looking in. There were a few old newspapers, the headlines reading about a mysterious murderer in London, the Whitechapel Murderer. Later editions of the newspaper read Jack the Ripper. This wasn't all that odd either. Arthur had been closely involved with the investigation, after all.

Lukas flipped through the papers one last time when he spotted something. A piece of parchment, stuck in between the pages of one of the newspapers. He took it out, beginning to read the words scrawled in red ink.

'Dear boss-'

"The British are coming!" Alfred's voice hissed as he raced into the room. Lukas rolled his eyes, wondering how long he had been waiting to say that, but quickly pushing the thought aside.

Francis looked over, eyes widening when he realized what was meant. He and the American frantically looked around the room in a panic.

"Will you two calm down." Norway ordered quietly, closing the drawer and walking over the them at the back of the room. He folded the letter, tucking it in his coat pocket along with the rest of the papers. They could hear footsteps from upstairs, coming closer. Closer.

Lukas swiftly went to the altar, slamming his hand down on top and whispering a quick spell. The altar easily slid into the wall, revealing a staircase leading down into the darkness.

"Woh... cool!" Alfred grinned at the secret entrance, but when he went to run down the steps, he froze. Even Lukas hesitated at the entrance, feeling a dark, foreboding presence. They heard the door open and in a second they plunged themselves into the cold, threatening darkness, the altar closing above them.


End file.
